


Just One Kiss?

by TsunamiHatake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsunamiHatake/pseuds/TsunamiHatake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape has a nightmare. Harry knows what to do. No, not like that. Seriously. Not like that. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Kiss?

Severus woke with a fright. He clasped his chest while heaving quick shallow breaths. He stared at the ceiling in panic while trying to calm down. This wasn't working. Her demented face was still fresh. He could still hear her beg for his help. He could still see the life dissipate from her corpse as Voldemort dealt the blow. He could still smell her rotting flesh on the table while Nagini feasted. He was going to be sick.

 

His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness around him. He scanned the room, not finding it familiar to his cold and damp chambers he was so used to. He made himself focus so he could block his thoughts. He saw... A bookshelf... A large desk... A nightstand... And a messy haired ne'er do-well in his bed. Or rather, not his bed. He remembered. He met Harry at his flat for dinner and decided to stay for desert. He could just make out the faint silhouette of Harry's face, which was turned towards him and resting angelically on his pillow, when the brat let loose a sigh with a snort. Ugh, Severus rolled his eyes. Eloquent as ever.

 

A bead of sweat made itself known on the back of his neck and so he carefully got out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom to cool off. He sat on the closed toilet lid with a cool washcloth in his hands and stared. It wasn't for a few minutes until he realized he had been staring at Potter's obscenely Muggle shower curtain with in-admittedly cute baby sized yellow ducklings against an ocean blue background.

 

"Tch," He scoffed, rolling his eyes yet again. He had to admit, it was rather eccentric, even for the Gryffindor brat. He made a mental note of insults to use at breakfast.

 

Bringing himself back to reality, he stood over the sink and looked into the mirror above it. He hated mirrors. They were never kind to his features, but then again they were just another version of the truth. He was not handsome, not even a little bit. His nose was bulbous, his teeth were crooked, his eyes sunken, and his hair was forever greased thanks to his brewing potions all day. Why on Earth had Potter taken an interest in him? Years later he would still wonder when Harry would tire of him. What was the appeal in a man that looked as horrid as he did?

 

He straightened his stance. It would do no good to question something that was already done. He knew that. Not just with Harry, but the past as well. Voldemort was gone. The war was over. He was alive and free. He was alive and free. He was alive and free. It was his mantra for nightmares, or when particular thoughts about the past crept through his mind. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He was calmer now, but that didn't necessarily mean he would be able to sleep again. He decided a cup of Chamomile Tea would help.

 

He slowly made his way down the hall and into the kitchen where he found Harry awake and rustling through the fridge with a pot of water already on the stove.

 

"Potter?" He asked, his eyes squinting to adjust to the light. "What are you doing awake?"

 

"Oh, there you are. I thought I felt you leave the bed. When you didn't come back right away..." He broke off and averted his eyes.

 

"Sorry," Severus mumbled. "It was not my intention to wake you."

 

"It's okay, really. Besides," he smiled and held out a box marked 'Medicinal Chamomile with Lavender', "I already know how you like your tea."

 

Severus felt himself take the box but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Harry's. He was too kind, too considerate of others around him. It was easy to take advantage of. Anyone else would miss how rare a gem he was, how his eyes could glisten like the rarest emeralds when he smiled. Severus stared in awe. He was at a loss for words.

 

Harry beamed, "You can sit at the bar while I make us a snack."

 

"Harry, this really isn't necessary-"

 

"Don't worry about it. Honestly. Just sit, it'll only take a few more seconds. "

 

Severus sighed in defeat. He pulled out a stool to the island bar that separated the middle of the kitchen and carefully sat while he watched Harry prepare olives, cheese, and crackers on what appeared to be festive Western saucers. He snorted and felt his eyes roll for the third time that night.

 

"And what exactly is so funny?"

 

"Your arse in those pants. Pray tell, what is your fascination with tiny yellow ducklings?"

 

Harry blushed and was thankful that his back was turned.

 

"They, ah, were actually a gift. From Arthur."

 

That would explain it, Severus thought to himself. He would rather burn alive than be caught dead in anything that overbearingly cute. Harry turned his head just enough to catch the expression on his lover's face.

 

"We are not burning them," Harry said with a satisfying tone. "Buuttt, I will let you take them off of me. Later of course. Maybe."

 

Severus raised an eyebrow with a smirk. He didn't miss the tint of red that graced Potter's cheeks.

 

"What makes you think I would dare to even dream of doing so? Why, Mister Potter, your arse looks positively dashing covered in baby ducks."

 

"Oh, can it, you," Harry laughed and turned off the whistling pot. "Besides, you only wear black. Even to bed." He punctuated his statement with a glare to the stuffy black cotton shirt and pants as evidence.

 

"Are you insinuating that you'd fancy me in any other color?"

 

"Severus," Harry said in a serious tone as he poured the water over the pure leaves, "I'd fancy you regardless of what you wore."

 

Snape scowled, "So I've noticed."

 

"Hey, it's worked out pretty well for you so far."

 

"Yes, six years after the war and two years in a relationship with the savior of the wizarding world-"

 

"Who loves you very much, might I add," Harry cut in with a sly grin as he set the plate of crackers, cheese, and olives on the bar.

 

"-And I marvel at my greatest accomplishment to date; surviving a lifetime of Potter's."

 

"Well, this Potter you're stuck with. Get used to it."

 

Harry placed his cup in front of him and a warm kiss on Snape's cheek before sitting opposite to him. He smiled at the look of surprise that was always there after he kissed his cheek. It was as if he were still not used to the affection. It served as a reminder of how far they'd come in the two years that Harry started openly pursuing the man.

 

Snape cradled his cup and stared into the depths of the liquid. The steam hit his face and infiltrated his senses. He inhaled deeply and held his breath, allowing it entry to his lungs. When he exhaled, he looked up to see Harry watching him with a perplexed expression. He quickly looked away.

 

He had hoped to do this alone. He had hoped to not have someone see this part of him. He had hoped that Harry would have remained slumbering away while he sat with his thoughts. The silence never bothered him before, but with someone here, the silence would be an invitation. Questions he didn't want to answer would be asked. Answers he didn't want to give would be given. He took a sip to quell his uneasy feeling.

 

"Aha!"

 

Harry's little outburst made him jump. His eyes fell on the messy haired brat doing what he did best, which was currently stacking cheese square after olive after cheese square to make the biggest cracker sandwich he could.

 

Damn bloody Gryffindors.

 

"You cut the olives wrong for sandwich making," Severus remarked dryly.

 

"Whaaat? No. Look at this!" He put the final cracker down and admired his work.

 

"You will never pick it up."

 

Sure enough, Harry tried to pick up his masterpiece only to have all the olives come tumbling out. He groaned in frustration and immediately set back to making his perfect stack again.

 

"I just picked it up wrong, that's all!"

 

"Tch," Severus rolled his eyes so hard he was sure he saw some of his own brain. "Let me show you," he took the knife from the plate and a few olives and began slicing in clean cut 'O' shapes.

 

Harry took the opportunity to watch the strokes of his fingers, so light yet precise; the catch of his hands, so firm and sure; and his eyes when he was giving something his full attention. How many times had he appreciated that look when he watched him brew potions? His eyes were so intense that it captivated Harry, held him on the spot. It was what made him fall in love, over and over, and over again.

 

Severus caught him in the act, however, and while he finished concocting the cracker stack, toyed with the idea of teasing his partner.

 

"There," he finally said with satisfaction.

 

"Show off," Harry stuck out his tongue and reached for the cracker stack on Snape's plate. Snape quickly swatted his hands away.

 

"This one is mine, make your own," He said with an evil smirk.

 

"That's so not fair!" Harry couldn't help but laugh. It was just like the git to pull one on him like that.

 

"Life isn't-"

 

"Don't even say that," Harry warned in a fake serious tone, "You're the one who made it unfair, not life."

 

"Hmmm," Severus contemplated thoughtfully. "I could let you have it."

 

Harry shivered, he could guess by that tone of voice what was coming.

 

Severus smirked and continued, "But what will you give me in return?"

 

Harry raised an eyebrow. Slytherin to the core, was he? Well Harry could play that game.

 

He leaned in and licked his lips intently, "That depends on what you're asking for, Severus."

 

Snape's eyes flashed. Oh how he loved this side to Harry. So willing to push the boundaries, just like a Gryffindor, that he'd already lost the game without even realizing.

 

"One kiss shall be the price," Severus drawled out after a moments silence.

 

Harry blushed at the formality. "A kiss, Severus?"

 

"One kiss," he repeated.

 

"Of all the things you could have asked for-" Severus raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, which made Harry flush deeper, "-You settle for just a kiss?"

 

"Well, seeing as how it's "just a kiss", you should have no problems conceding."

 

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I could just make my own, you know. I saw how you cut the olives. I could make one just like that, or one even better."

 

"You could," Severus feigned disinterest, knowing it would only further ruffle his predictable lover's feathers. He shrugged and sipped his tea. This proved far more entertaining than he first thought. Watching his lover get squirmy with anticipation was oddly... Arousing. And damn sure enough to distract him from the reason they were down here in the fist place. He bit the inside of his lip to stop from smiling.

 

After giving it some thought, perhaps to find the catch, Harry heaved an exasperated sigh.

 

"What's the catch?"

 

"Why Potter, whatever do you mean?"

 

"I mean I know you Severus Snape, you would never ask for a kiss. And you wouldn't use that tone if you wanted a kiss. You would just kiss me. So what do you really want?"

 

"You are severely overthinking this."

 

"Am I? Or are you making me think that I am?"

 

Severus almost snorted his tea. Almost. He couldn't help the endearing look he gave to the helpless Gryffindor. Harry was right about one thing, if he wanted a kiss, he would just take it. The more this little game played out, the more he wanted the reward he set.

 

He set his cup down and decided that it was time for other things to be enjoyed. Like the sound of one helpless Gryffindor begging for release at his mercy. He stood and took the tray of crackers and such from the table, shoved them in the fridge, and turned to Harry, who gave him a confused look. He slowly walked to his lover, smirk in place, and kissed Harry unlike any kiss they'd shared so far. It was a soft sort of kiss, full of emotion and a promise of what was to come. Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' neck and sighed contently.

 

"Does this mean you're feeling better?" He hummed from the older's chest.

 

"Why don't we go upstairs and find out, hmm?" Severus replied with a purr in Harry's ear.

 

He pulled away but his fingers lingered at Harry's burning cheekbone. Harry's eyes were wide and his breath was accelerated.

 

"I knew there was more to it than just a kiss!" He exclaimed as he happily followed Severus to the bedroom.

 

"Yes, and I am ready to take those damn bottoms off from your lovely arse," Severus replied and Harry gasped audibly.

 

Harry missed the smile that was spreading over Severus' face, just as he missed how Severus thanked whatever Gods had deemed him worthy of this particularly stubborn brat's love. But at that moment Severus felt truly thankful to be a part of someone else's life as Harry had been a part of his own. This closeness, this feeling of loving someone to the point of bearing one's soul, Severus was not used to yet; but the grin on Harry's face as they crawled in bed together told Severus that perhaps this would not be such a hard thing to get used to after all. Perhaps it was okay to have someone love you, no matter what you've gone through, no matter what you look like, no matter the insecurities, doubts, and memories.

 

Perhaps it was okay to love and be loved, unconditionally.


End file.
